Fusion

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Bathtime

One of the things Chrissy liked most about home was the bath. She wasn't a big woman and it made her feel like a little ship in a large flat, friendly, warm and bubbling sea.

When she'd finally got home, she was shaking with mild shock. It was about 8. Elsee was out on her date and the baby-minder asked if she was alright. She had said she was. She wasn't. She hadn't had the sense to go to their doctor and get something for it, so she lay in the hot bath shivering with fear as if the water had been ice cold.

She lay resplendent; up to her neck in bubbles the hot bubble jets tickled her callipygian cheeks. Her quivering caused the mound of froth in the bath to oscillate slightly, but out of time with her own movements.

She sat blankly looking at the wall. Next to her she had some hot milk, which had a generous portion of whiskey in it. She had not been so angry with Duncan in a considerable amount of time but that experience had been relegated since she had seen the sight of the man's head on the grass.

She covered her mouth and ran over to the basin. Her stomach twitched and she was sick. Not for the first time that evening. Then she got back into the bath and stared at the wall again. The amount of sick in the basin was growing as the drain was blocked. The smell began to permeate the room.

She had not even bothered to call Duncan, while he was no doubt having a good time with the Governor she had spent her time at The Fish Shack wrapped in a blanket in the back room giving a statement to a burly, gruff policeman with a little gold filling. The cop had told her that the dead man was Ralph McMahan who was an Operations Manager at Carlton.

He was very nice to her because he knew who she was. She was sure she had met him somewhere before she suspected it was at the party but she had been merry.

At least Brad was asleep. She had been into his room and stroked his hair. He was purring. His room was full of wooden toys. It was a bit strange, not many kids these days liked wooden toys but he loved them. Steam trains stained red paraded like vast long snakes across his room. Brad would play with them for hours. Chrissy tried to encourage him to play on screen but he wasn't having any of it, until the Tom and Jerry avatar game arrived. Old fashioned, like his father, aged three? Maybe.

One way or another she now felt strangely blank. She had no idea how she would react when she saw Duncan. Whether she would run into his arms, try and throw him out or what she would do.

She wondered what sort of a mood he would be in: apologetic, indifferent or would he be seeking his nemesis? He was hard to predict sometimes and right now she didn't know how he would react.
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